


To the Grave Prompt #1: De-Aging

by DarkCh1ld



Series: To the Grave [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, F/M, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Team as Family, child endangerment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCh1ld/pseuds/DarkCh1ld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How is this my life?”</p><p>Reilly groaned when he saw the small form curled up in Sebastian's arms. Huge hazel-green eyes blinked up at him, curious and slightly scared.</p><p>How did one react when met with the sight of their 28-year-old lover shrunken into a toddler?</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Grave Prompt #1: De-Aging

“How is this my life?”  
  
Reilly groaned when he saw the small form curled up in Sebastian's arms. Huge hazel-green eyes blinked up at him, curious and slightly scared.  
  
How did one react when met with the sight of their 28-year-old lover shrunken into a _toddler_?  
  
“How did this happen?” he inquired testily. None of the team seemed to have an answer, looking guiltily at anything in the room except the redhead. After a long, uncomfortable silence in which Reilly glared at each of his teammates until they squirmed where they stood, Julia spoke up.  
  
“We were searching the compound Emile directed us to, and we split up. Lawrence said he'd found a girl there and then we lost him on the comms. When we found him, he was like this. We correctly assumed it was the girl's ability; she said it should wear off in a week at the least…”  
  
“And at the most?” Reilly prompted, hearing the pause at the end.  
  
Julia sighed, “Five months.”  
  
Reilly resisted the urge to smash his head into the nearest wall. Instead, he rubbed at his temples, taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly. “Does he remember anything?”  
  
“We haven't asked him yet. We figured it might be a good idea to get back here before anything else happened,” Sebastian replied, setting Lawrence on his feet. The child wobbled slightly, but kept his gaze resolutely on Reilly.  
  
The redhead crouched down in front of him, smiling in a way he hoped was nonthreatening.  
  
“Hey, kid. Do you know who I am?” Lawrence stared for a minute more, frowning, and then shook his head. “My name is Reilly. I'm a friend of your family. How old are you?”  
  
Four fingers rose, a shy smile lighting Lawrence's face when Reilly grinned at him and whistled, “You're a big boy then, huh. Okay, one last question. I know you're not at home, but do you trust us to watch you for now?”  
  
The child's brows scrunched up in concentration, eyes finally leaving Reilly's face to trail over the other eight occupants of the living room. He shifted almost imperceptibly closer to Reilly, nodding hesitantly.  
  
“Okay, let's get you some clothes and see if we can't find something to eat.”

* * *

Later that night, after Lawrence was tucked into Reilly's old bed, the team convened in the living room once again.  
  
Madison started the conversation with the question that was plaguing all of their minds. “Why doesn't he talk? At four, he should be able to use at least rudimentary English, but he hasn't said a single word since he was changed.”  
  
Reilly thought back to what he knew of Lawrence's past. “He was born with his powers, and as a child he had little control of them. He didn't get the journal until he was 16, which means anything he learned as a child only stuck if he didn't activate his powers by accident. Perhaps at four he didn't remember many full English words, just sounds…” he trailed off when he heard a familiar noise.  
  
It was a whine, pitched higher than usual but recognizable, coming from his old room. Seconds later, Lawrence padded into the living room, blanket clutched in one hand.  
  
Reilly was immediately on his feet, going to the child's side. “Hey bud, you're supposed to be sleeping. What's up?”  
  
Lawrence rubbed at his eyes—which Reilly just noticed were rimmed with red—and yawned, holding up his arms.  
  
Reilly scooped the boy up, wrapping the blanket around him as he returned to the couch. “Couldn't sleep?”  
  
Lawrence shook his head once he was situated comfortably in Reilly's lap. He made a soft sound, one they'd come to recognize in the past few hours as fear, and buried his face against the redhead's shoulder.  
  
Reilly rubbed his back soothingly, feeling the slight tremble in the little body. “Had a nightmare?”  
  
Lawrence nodded and tightened his hold on Reilly.  
  
Without a word, Madison stood and headed for the kitchen, grabbing the milk and pouring some in the kettle.  
  
“What're you doing, Maddie?” she heard Sebastian ask behind her. When she turned, the Brit was leaning against the island, eyebrows raised in intrigue. She smiled, turning back to the kettle and putting it on the stove.  
  
“Whenever I had a nightmare, my brother would make me hot milk to calm me down,” she explained as she poured the milk into one of the smallest mugs once it was done.  
  
Sebastian's eyes widened in understanding, “Then do you think he'd appreciate a cookie or two? It always helped me to eat something sweet before bed.”  
  
They left the kitchen with the milk, a tray of chocolate chip cookies, and a mug of hot chocolate for Reilly as well.  
  
By that time, the others had cleared out, leaving just the redhead and child sitting on the couch. Lawrence looked up when they came in, big eyes tracking the tray as Sebastian sat it on the coffee table.  
  
“What is this?” Reilly questioned curiously, grabbing Lawrence's hand when he reached for one of the treats.  
  
“We figured you and him could use something to wind down.”  
  
Reilly looked down at the child still fighting to get to the cookies, turning him to face the other two, “Kid, do you know what to say when someone gives you something?”  
  
The toddler finally stopped struggling, nodding and looking up at Madison and Sebastian. He worked to get the words out, but eventually he managed to stutter, “Tha-ank…y-you.”  
  
Never had Reilly seen his teammates more gobsmacked than in that moment.  
  
After they beat a clumsy retreat, trying and failing not to stare at the utterly adorable boy waving at them, Reilly turned to their refreshments. “You want to watch a movie while you eat, bud?”  
  
Lawrence's vehement nod was all the answer he needed.  
  
The team found them there the next morning; Reilly stretched out across the couch with Lawrence curled up against him, head pillowed on his chest as Charlie Brown played softly in the background.

* * *

 The change lasted for more than a week. Reilly had had the desperate hope that they would only have to survive parenthood for seven days, but it was going on Week 6 and nothing indicated that things would go back to normal any time soon. The team, in between doing missions, helped monitor Lawrence, but much of his care was left to Reilly.  
  
As he had guessed, Lawrence didn't have control over his powers and often accidentally activated them. As such, Reilly had to coax the child to touch the journal every night before bed, and show him the recordings of his life every morning—after the inevitable silent panic the boy experienced waking up in a strange place.  
  
Lawrence still communicated mainly with sounds, but was learning new words every day from the others. Currently, he was sitting on the living room floor with Salvatore looking at flashcards.  
  
“And what's this one?” Salvatore pointed to a picture of a dog. Lawrence's face shifted in the way that meant he was thinking really hard.  
  
“Dalmatian,” he said after a minute, beaming when Salvatore patted his head in congratulations. The boy looked up when Reilly walked into the room, as always strangely attuned to the redhead's presence. He picked up one of the cards strewn across the floor and ran over to Reilly, holding it up in one chubby fist, “Phoenix!”  
  
Reilly froze, staring at the firebird on the card in shock until he heard Lawrence's concerned, “Reilly?”  
  
He shook his head, smiling softly at the boy. “Good job, kid. Your vocabulary's getting better every day.”  
  
Lawrence made a happy trilling sound, bounding back over to Salvatore.

* * *

The team was absolutely enamored with the young boy. Lawrence was an infinitely polite child, even when he didn't speak.  
  
The ladies rarely left him alone; most of their time at the base was spent playing with, talking at, and basically catering to the child's needs.  
  
“Motherly instinct,” Julia called it, standing outside the bathroom while Lawrence took a playtime potty break.  
  
Reilly didn't argue with her on that.  
  
The one that surprised the team the most was Kyougo. While they knew he didn't inherently _hate_ children, he admittedly didn't feel very comfortable around them. But around Lawrence, Kyougo was perfectly fine. While everyone else—excluding Reilly, of course—fell over themselves trying to keep Lawrence happy, Kyougo took a different approach. Reilly discovered this when one day, halfway through Week 14, while he was watching TV, Lawrence attempted to climb the kitchen counter to grab the toy plane sitting on top of the refrigerator.  
  
Before Reilly could panic, he heard a voice bark “Hey!” behind him.  
  
Lawrence froze a quarter of the way up, slowly looking back at Kyougo standing in the doorway to the kitchen.  
  
“Lawrence, what do you think you're doing?” Kyougo's voice was frigid in the way that only parents could make seem both caring and lethal.  
  
The boy pointed to the plane, whimpering helplessly.  
  
Whereas one of the others would let Lawrence off with that, Kyougo didn't accept it. “Words, Lawrence. Use them.”  
  
“P-plane…” Lawrence replied instantly, gazing forlornly back at the toy.  
  
Kyougo stepped a little further into the room, “And what are you supposed to do if you want something you can't reach?”  
  
Lawrence let go of the counter, looking down at his feet and whimpering again.  
  
Kyougo's tone turned steely, “If I have to tell you to use your words one more time, you're on punishment.”  
  
Lawrence's head shot up at that, wide eyes filling with tears at the prospect of punishment. Kyougo didn't relent.  
  
“What are you supposed to do?”  
  
“Ask.”  
  
“And why didn't you? Reilly was right in the living room.”  
  
Lawrence's face pinched into a petulant pout, “…big boy…”  
  
Kyougo's glare softened into a sympathetic frown. He knelt in front of the boy, keeping his voice firm but warm. “Big boys know to ask for help when they need it. Do you need help?”  
  
Lawrence nodded and pointed at the toy again. “Plane please?” His smile when Kyougo handed him the plane was radiant, “Thank you very much!”  
  
Kyougo smiled, watching Lawrence bound out of the kitchen and through the hallway making engine noises.  
  
Reilly stared in slack-jawed astonishment from his half-kneel on the couch. When Kyougo turned to leave and caught his gaze, his face flushed bright red, “W-what?”  
  
“So when are you and Julia planning to have one of your own? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, with her ‘motherly instinct’ and your gentle discipline, you would make awesome parents.”  
  
Kyougo's face got even redder, if that was possible. “W-we're not…what…why would you even think that?” he spluttered inelegantly.  
  
Reilly shrugged and turned back to the TV, flipping through the channels, “You're really good with the kid, if you haven't noticed. Nobody other than you and me have the balls to tell him no—probably ingrained from being his subordinates.”  
  
At that statement, Kyougo frowned and circled the couch, standing in front of the TV. “You keep calling him ‘the kid.’”  
  
Reilly blinked in confused shock at the sudden turn in conversation, “Huh?”  
  
“It's been nearly three and a half months, and not a single day has passed where you used Lawrence's name. Why?”  
  
Reilly went silent, expression growing ever more troubled.  
  
“Reilly, I understand this must be more than a little freaky, but he's still Lawrence. What's got you so spooked?”  
  
“That's just it. I _know_ it's still Lawrence. He's just the same as he was as an adult—same smile, same laugh, same fucking _devotion_ to me. But do you really get it?” Reilly's tone was one of anguish, “Think about it, Kyougo. My lover, who I've been with for nearly five years, is a _toddler_. Not only that, he _doesn't remember anything_ after that age. That's five years we've spent together, gone. It kills me seeing him like this. Sometimes he looks at me like he remembers me, but then he seems to just forget again. He's not my Lawrence, and to him I'm just a caretaker.”  
  
“It won't last forever—”  
  
“And how do you know that? Because the girl who caused this gave you her word? Did it ever occur to you that she could've been lying so you'd let her go? What if it's permanent?” Reilly's face crumpled and he buried his face in his hands, whispering, “Fuck, _what if it's permanent_?”  
  
Kyougo sat next to the redhead on the couch, pulling him into a one-armed hug.  
  
“We'll figure it out, Reilly.”

* * *

The change lasted longer than five months. By month six, the team had resigned themselves to the fact that they might not be getting their leader back.  
  
Month six also brought with it two big events: Lawrence's second first trip to an amusement park, which would go down in history as the most fun Reilly had had since the shitstorm started, and an event that marked the first time Reilly had used anything resembling his powers since his deprogramming and proved that his bite was _far_ worse than his bark.  
  
A local disturbance had garnered Emile's attention, mainly due to the high amount of casualties surrounding the attacks, and he sent the team out to investigate and “mediate” if necessary. What they didn't realize was that they had a tiny, curious audience of one following after them.  
  
Reilly didn't catch on until he'd called Lawrence for his nap and the child—who usually _loved_ nap time—didn't respond at all. When he didn't find the boy in the house, he started looking for clues, fighting down his silent panic. Channeling Anastasie, he tracked a trail of cracker crumbs and juice spill to an upturned sippy cup next to the spot where Lawrence's shoes usually sat. At that point, all of the panic bubbled up and he bolted out the door, following the trail Emile had given the team.  
  
_I swear on all that is holy if he gets hurt I will **end** someone._  
  
When he made it to the battleground—because that's what it had become, unconscious bodies strewn about haphazardly in the field—he stopped cold, frozen in place by the sight he was greeted with.  
  
The team was standing across from about twenty more men; in front of who stood the one Reilly assumed was their leader. But it wasn't the numbers that had them stuck, no. It was the tiny, frightened boy held in the leader's grasp with a large serrated blade pressed to his throat.  
  
“Let him go and your death will be slightly less agonizing,” Reilly's snarl echoed across the field, drawings the leader's attention.  
  
“Ah, Phoenix! I was wondering when you'd arrive. I had a feeling they were hiding you away.” The leader grinned with far too many teeth, tightening his grip on Lawrence, “My name is Wayne. I take it this child is important to you?”  
  
Lawrence kicked and wriggled violently, but to no avail. His eyes, huge and watery, landed on the redhead and he whimpered, “R-Reilly…help.”  
  
“Let. Him. Go.” Reilly repeated, poison dripping from each word.  
  
“Ah, ah, ah. You see, I have valuable Intel that says that _you_ no longer have powers. So I have a proposition.” Wayne moved the knife, pressing the tip just under Lawrence's right eye, “You all come work for me, or I start taking this adorable little creature apart piece by piece, starting with his eyes and ending with his tongue, just so you can hear him scream for you one last time before I slit his throat.”  
  
“I'm gonna rip your fucking head off, you coward,” Kyougo hissed.  
  
“Language!” Wayne chastised mockingly, tapping the knife against Lawrence's skin, “There's a child present.”  
  
Julia shifted forward, but she was stayed by Sebastian's arm across her chest.  
  
Wayne looked back over at the redhead, “So what'll it be, Phoenix?”  
  
Reilly walked forward, ignoring his teams' shouts of protest and threats of violence to Wayne's person. Once he was within handshake distance, one of Wayne's men stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs. Reilly stood still until the poor sucker moved closer, and then grabbed him by the throat and _clenched_. He heard the satisfying snap of bones under his fingers; golden eyes alight with a familiar fire.  
  
“I told you to let him go. You didn't listen.”  
  
What happened next he couldn't explain even if he tried. One moment he was standing over the henchman's prone body, the next he was shoving his flaming fist down Wayne's throat and releasing a palmful of fire into his gut. Reilly didn't stop moving until every single one of Wayne's men were lying in a scorched heap on the ruined earth.  
  
Lawrence stood just a few feet away, frozen in abject horror at the massacre unfolding in front of him.  
  
Once Reilly deemed all threats neutralized, he turned to Lawrence. The boy just continued to stare numbly at the bloody, broken bodies surrounding the redhead.  
  
Reilly reached out to comfort him, but stopped at the sight of torn, melted flesh and tissue glued to his skin by dried blood. Dropping his arm, he called over to the team, “Kyougo, you and Julia get him back home. Sebastian, with me. Everyone else, cleanup duty. I'll report back to Emile.”  
  
The team immediately did as told, Julia scooping Lawrence up in her arms as he finally registered what had just transpired. They didn't make it out of earshot fast enough for Reilly to miss the moment the child dissolved into tears.

* * *

“So you don't know how it manifested?”

Reilly was seconds away from tearing his hair out. Emile stared him down, expressionless as usual.

“Yes, as I've been telling you for the past _hour_ , it just happened. I don't know how or exactly when, all I know is that that asshole Wayne was threatening Lawrence and I just…moved. I didn't really think about the fact that I was killing them.”

Now that he had time to think instead of react, he could remember the slimy-slick warmth of Wayne's innards and the sickening crunch of bones against his knuckles. Emile nodded as if he understood, resting his elbows on his desk, “We’ll have to run some simulations, test if your powers are back or not and in what capacity. For now, though, just go clean up and check on Lawrence.”

“I-I’m not in trouble? I thought you said we weren’t supposed to kill, just incapacitate.”

“On account of you not having awareness of what you were doing and the fact that I will not allow anyone to harm any member of my team— _especially_  when that member is a defenseless child—I will forgive this transgression.”

Reilly nodded and took his leave, Sebastian following him obediently.

“What are you going to do if your full powers are back?” the younger man inquired quietly, “Are you gonna let them deprogram you again?”

Reilly stopped walking, clenching his fingers into fists and scowling at the ground, “I’d let them take me apart if that’s what it would take to keep me from going insane again. These powers bring me and others nothing but pain. That’s not my concern right now. Did you see how he looked at me, Sebastian? Jesus, I’m pretty sure I scarred the kid for life. I’m sure he wants nothing to do with me anymore. How the hell do I apologize for murdering people in front of him?”

* * *

Reilly was only partially correct in his fears. Lawrence _had_ been terrified, but not of Reilly himself. When Sebastian and Reilly walked into the base, Lawrence—who was sitting on the carpet playing with his plane—bolted behind the couch.

Reilly closed his hands into fists, letting out a long breath before consciously relaxing his muscles. “Hey, bud. Um, can…can we talk?”

Lawrence peeked around the edge of the couch, his fearful expression melting into apprehensive curiosity. Reilly sat on the carpet, wringing his hands together nervously. The child slowly scooted out from his hiding place, pausing about a foot away from Reilly. “…not Phoenix anymore?”

Reilly’s eyes widened at the same time he heard Sebastian's shocked gasp. “You…you remember Phoenix?”

“Remember Big Lawrence, too.” Lawrence admitted solemnly, looking down at his bare feet and repeating his question, “Not Phoenix anymore?”

Reilly whispered hoarsely, “No, Lawrence, I’m not Phoenix anymore.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Lawrence launched himself into Reilly’s arms, squeezing him as tight as he could. “Remember a little about Reilly and Big Lawrence. Does Reilly want Big Lawrence back?”

“Yes, Reilly wants Big Lawrence back, but he loves Little Lawrence just as much,” Reilly pressed a kiss to the top of Lawrence's head, fighting back tears of joy. He could hear Sebastian walk off, probably to give them some privacy.

Once Lawrence pulled away, Reilly grabbed the toy plane and sat it in his hands, grinning happily, “Want to go play with the others?” He laughed brightly when the boy bounced to his feet and darted off.

* * *

Seven months and thirteen days after the team walked into the compound with a toddler, Lawrence returned to normal. The only reason the team even realized it was happening was because it started with a blood-curdling scream of agony. The team was immediately awake, rushing into Lawrence and Reilly’s room in seconds.

“Reilly, what hap—!” Kyougo’s panicked query was cut short by the sight of Reilly, hair wild and eyes nearly glowing with happiness, sitting on the floor with a fully-grown Lawrence slouched in his lap. Their leader’s eyes were closed, but the tension in his body told them he was awake.

Nilde was the first to react. “Welcome back, Lawrence,” she said softly, going to kneel next to the brunet.

Lawrence managed a tiny nod, fingers clenching in the fabric of Reilly’s pajama pants. Reilly spoke in his stead, “Apparently what the girl forgot to tell you was that the transformation back hurts like hell. Give him a minute or two.”

After a bit of time, Lawrence finally opened his eyes and looked around at all of his friends. “Hey, guys,” he croaked, “good to be back.”


End file.
